


Creepy, Kooky, Mysterious and Spooky

by littleconnections



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bigfoot - Freeform, Ghosthunting!Au, Ghosts, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-19 00:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleconnections/pseuds/littleconnections
Summary: There are probably things in the world that can’t be explained by science. Maybe some of those things are ghosts. Maybe not. Either way, JT would really prefer to concentrate on playing hockey and not thinking about it.Unfortunately that’s not an option when your roommate is determined to prove the existence of ghosts to the guy you’re crushing on and you keep getting dragged along for the ride.





	Creepy, Kooky, Mysterious and Spooky

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [dalmatienne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalmatienne/pseuds/dalmatienne) in the [boysarehot](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/boysarehot) collection. 



> IF YOU FOUND THIS STORY THROUGH GOOGLING YOURSELF OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW PLEASE LEAVE. WE’LL ALL BE BETTER OFF THAT WAY.
> 
> This is a fun story about ghost hijinks and not actually scary, however it does make references to the sort of things that are usually associated with ghosts: suicides, child death, prisoners dying. Also Bigfoot, for variety. 
> 
> This story does not follow any season’s schedule. I’ve fudged some things due to convinence and laziness. All haunted locations mentioned in this story are, however, actual locations that claim to be haunted. 
> 
> Thank you to Leish and Su for betaing. Thanks to Melina for sharing her knowledge of the occult.

When Paranormal Activity ends JT is only pressed slightly back into the cushions of the couch, one hand curled around the ankle of the foot that Tyson is resting in his lap. His heart is pounding in his chest and he can feel every part of his body, the tension in his thighs and feet and the skin under his fingertips. He’s breathing normally though. That’s what matters.

The rest of the room is dark, credits crawling over the screen. Tyson is sprawled out over the rest of the couch and when he turns to look at JT, he grins. There’s nothing about him that indicates they just watched the most terrifying movies in JT’s memory, even if JT definitely remembers Tyson yelling and kicking him at least once.

Over on the other couch Kerf is taking the last pulls of his beers. He sets it down on the floor with a thunk, then sits up and stretches, running his fingers through his hair.

“Creepy,” he says, stretching his neck from side to side. “Not that ghosts are actually like that. But creepy.”

Then he grabs his beer bottle and gets up from the couch.

“Sorry, what?” Tyson says. “Do you have personal experience with ghosts?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kerf looks at him. “Harvard is haunted. I’ve seen ghosts a bunch of times.”

And then he walks away to the kitchen like that wasn’t the scariest thing JT has ever heard in his life, especially with left over adrenaline coursing through his body, fight or flight instincts activated. Under his hand Tyson’s foot kicks out a little and he starts laughing.

“Get back here,” he yells. “There’s no way you’ve seen ghosts! How fucking wasted were you?”

Kerf has a new beer and an offended expression when comes back into the room.

“Fuck you,” he says. “There’s plenty of evidence. There’s a hall where you can hear a dinner party from, I don’t know, whenever they used to hold dinner parties there. I’ve heard that. There’s this one church where you can hear a dude screaming.”

“And you heard that?” Tyson looks delighted, all irrepressible grin and twinkling eye. It’s cute but JT can’t really appreciate it because he’s staring at Kerf in mild horror.

“Not personally,” he admits. “But I did see a dude in old period shit, from like, the revolutionary war. I thought it was just someone dressed up or something but then he saw me and disappeared in front of my eyes. Just fucking poofed.”

He snaps his fingers then takes a drink.

“No way,” Tyson says. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. You were drunk.”

Kerf opens his mouth, then pauses.

“Okay kinda,” he admits. “But like, not that drunk. I didn’t black out or anything. I remember everything from that night and I know what I saw. It was a fucking ghost.”

Tyson laughs. JT also laughs but it comes out as kind of a nervous giggle, because well. Kerf seems really fucking convinced and he’s…not really the type to believe in shit if he didn’t have proof for it? He’s very logical, very collected. And apparently believes in ghosts.

“Also, a girl in one of my study group totally met the ghost of this old dude in the library,” Kerf continues. “Pushes a library cart around and everything. People see him all the time, but no one knows who he is.”

“So there’s a dude who hates talking to people,” Tyson says dismissively. “I can’t believe you think ghosts are real.”

“I’ve seen them,” it’s still calm but Kerf’s eyes are narrowed.

“It’s bullshit,” Tyson says and then kicks JT. “Hey Jay, tell him it’s bullshit.”

“It’s—yeah,” JT swallows. “Ghosts aren’t real, dude.”

Kerf turns his narrowed gazed on JT and JT feels kind of like shrinking into the pillows. He doesn’t, obviously, but it’s a gaze with intent.

“Whatever,” Kerf says. “You’ll see.”

He looks at them, drains his beer and stalks out of the room. It’s not reassuring at all.

—

Nothing happens for a couple of days, so JT basically forgets about it. Or he would, except that it’s almost Halloween and that means there are fucking ghosts and shit everywhere. Bats. Pumpkins. Halloween shit, and like JT has other stuff to do, games to play and practices to go to but it’s hard to forget your roommate’s insistence that he saw a ghost when every time you drive to work you pass at least three advertisements reminding you it’s Halloween.

Kerf doesn’t bring it up again though. Instead JT walks into the kitchen two mornings before the team Halloween party to find Josty squinting at his tablet while he shovels cereal into his mouth.

“Do we count as a swole bro wolf pack?” He asks.

“What the fuck?” JT doesn’t know what to do with that question.

“I’m trying to figure out my costume,” Josty says. “And this article suggests the dudes from Magic Mike as a group costume.”

JT isn’t sure what to do with most of the information in that sentence so he decides to focus on the most important bit. “You don’t have your costume yet? The party is in like two days.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Josty says. “I’ve been a little busy you know, playing hockey.”

They did just get back from playing the California teams. That was nice, they’d won two out of three and JT had scored in the last game. Still.

“Well I’ve got my costume,” JT says, “and I’m pretty sure Alex is set, too. So you’re gonna have to figure out yours on your own.”

Josty shrugs. He doesn’t seem particularly worried about it.

—

So, JT has a thing for Tyson. It’s fine, it really is. He’s mostly resigned to it by now, the fact that, yeah, he kind of really wants to put his mouth on his teammate’s mouth and that’s probably not going to happen. Josty’s pretty open about these things; if he wanted something from JT, JT would know. He doesn’t, so Josty doesn’t.

It’s fine. It’s _fine_.

Most of the time he can put up with it, just a sort of low key awareness of Tyson’s mouth and Tyson’s curls and Tyson’s abs and maybe a general, occasional, aching fondness deep in his chest when Tyson smiles at him over dinner, or at practice or during a game, wide and cheerful.

The point is most of the time JT can handle it. Most of the time it’s not like this, his eyes getting caught on planes and angles of Tyson’s bare chest, the expanse of his abs, his muscular thighs caught up under the like, skirt thing that he’s wearing right now. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, doesn’t see regularly but here it’s on display, begging to be looked at and JT has to force himself to drag his eyes away and breathe deeply. A fucking, like, gladiator costume. Just his fucking luck.

“You’re gonna be cold,” Kerf says from the door. He’s wearing a flight suit and Ray Bans, eyeing Josty critically over the rim.

Josty rolls his eyes. “It’s not like we’re going to be outside.”

JT has a jacket despite the fact that his vampire costume includes a cape but he can kind of see Josty’s point.

“We might end up outside,” Kerf says. “You don’t know that.”

He gets a shrug in return and then they have to go out to catch their Uber so there’s no time to get into an actual argument and besides, when they get to the party and everyone is packed into Gabe’s very warm house it seems like Josty was probably right.

It’s a nice night. It’s not actually Halloween, which is tomorrow but they’re playing a game then so tonight’s the night for the party. Basically the whole team is there, including significant others and there’s a punch bowl filled with something deliciously alcoholic and also strawberries. JT finishes several glasses of it while he wanders around chatting with people and admiring costumes. Some people put in a lot of effort but he’s glad there’s at least a few others (EJ) who committed to the minimal effort of buying a mask and calling it a day.

When he finds Josty again he’s lost the helmet he’d been wearing and, from the flush on his cheeks, appears to also be several glasses deep into whatever is being served from the punch bowl. Josty’s grin brightens when he catches sight of JT and he waves him over. His hair is a mess and his cheeks are red and he’s still very shirtless. JT wants to lick him but he also wants to hug him, so settles on that, pulling Josty into his side. He leans in there, warm, naked skin a hot line JT can feel through his nice shirt.

“EJ was telling me about racing,” he says. “BizNasty is doing well.”

“So well,” EJ says and nods. He has one of those masks from the one movie with the face pushed back on his head and isn’t wearing his teeth, face also flushed with whatever he’s been drinking. Beer, probably, since he’s holding a bottle of that and not one of the punch glasses.

“That’s cool,” JT says and means it. He’s so fond of everyone on this team right now, all these weirdos with their strange hobbies. It’s nice that he can stand here, arm wrapped around his friend and listen to their nonsensical talk about a horse named Biz. Josty is so warm against him and sometimes JT can feel him laugh, shoulders vibrating under his arm.

JT has some more punch.

Eventually he loses Josty again and ends up talking to Gabe for a little bit, who is dressed like one of the dudes from that Swedish band he likes so much. ABBA. That’s the one.

“Hey JT,” Kerf appears. “I found Josty and we’re getting an Uber home, you coming?”

JT considers for a moment, but the party is winding down, the first wave of people already left. JT is comfortably drunk but not so much that he thinks it’s a good idea to drink more and he is feeling kind of tired.

“Sure,” he says. “Lemme just say bye to everyone and I’ll meet you guys at the entrance.”

Kerf nods and five minutes later the three of them are piling into a car. JT’s in the back with Josty, who keeps touching him, drunkly snuggly the way he always gets. He’s not really paying attention to the directions Alex is giving the driver. He’s not really paying attention at all until they’re back outside and the car is taking off again and JT realizes—

“What the fuck Kerf?” He says. “Why are we at the park?”

Kerf kind of shrugs. “I thought we could walk home. It’s not that far, it’ll help us sober up.”

JT looks around. They’re standing at on open lawn and in the distance he can see the rise of the monuments of Cheesman Park. He runs here sometimes, when it seems better than going to the gym but—

“It’s like a forty minutes to our house from here.”

Kerf waves a hand. “It’s like thirty minutes tops, don’t be such a wimp. It’s nice out. There’s even stars.”

One or two maybe, twinkling in the dark black sky stretched above them.

“That’s nice but I don’t have a fucking shirt and it’s fucking freezing,” Josty says and they turn to him. He has his arms wrapped around his torso. There are goosebumps on his arms and he’s shivering, looks like he’s trying to hold that in.

“Told you, you should have brought a jacket,” Kerf says then sighs when Josty’s jaw clenches and slips out of his own. “Here, wear mine. And come on.”

He waits impatiently until Josty has taken the jacket and slipped it on, looking confused. He doesn’t close the jacket and JT can still see the lines of his chest, his nipples gone hard with the cold and he forces himself to look away. He’s still a little soupy with the punch, can feel it again now that the surprise coldness that comes with standing at a park instead of in front of their house has worn off.

“Can’t why just get another Uber? Why the fuck are we walking through the park in the middle of the night?”

Kerf pursues his lips, then shrugs.

“There’s supposed to be ghosts here,” he says. “I wanted to see and since you two didn’t believe me…”

JT’s heart feels like it’s jumping in his chest, sudden bout of adrenaline coursing through him.

“For real?” Josty looks delighted. “We’re going ghost hunting? You should’ve said, I would have totally brought a jacket for this. Come on let’s go!”

He steps onto the lawn and starts walking, only stumbling on the grass once before catching his footing and marching along. Kerf catches up to him, leaving JT the option of following or standing by himself at the edge of a supposedly haunted park in the middle of the night.

He follows. There’s a distinct feeling of dread pooling in his stomach and he shivers as a gust of winds catches him. It’s cold. Ghosts aren't real, he reminds himself.

“So why is this place supposed to be haunted?” Josty asks. His face is still kind of flushed from drinking but he’s looking around eagerly, apparently ready for any glimpse of a ghost. JT settles in next to him as they walk over the wide expanse of lawn that is the Cheesake Park. There’s not really much light, just a couple of street lamps in the distance and what light is coming down from the moon. JT is very, very grateful for the clear night. He doesn’t want to think about the park with even less light.

“It used to be graveyard,” Kerf says. Casual. Conversational. Like that’s not horrifying. “Last time they had to dig something up for construction they found like four skeletons. The caskets had rotted away but the hinges were still there.”

“Nice,” Josty nods, “Were they forgotten here or what?”

“Nah,” Kerf says. “They didn’t move most of the bodies when they built the park. I read that there’s still like something like two thousand skeletons buried here.”

JT squeaks. He’s not proud and he definitely pretends he didn’t when Josty and Kerf look at him but yeah. That was a noise his mouth made.

“Anyway,” Kerf keeps going, “people have reported all sorts of stuff. Mostly like, moaning and cold spots and stuff but some people claim they met spirits. Nothing is confirmed though.”

“No? Really? No confirmed ghosts? Can't believe that,” Josty is grinning, kind of bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looks like there’s nothing he wants more than to have a spirit pop up right in front of them. “So how do we find a ghost then?”

Kerf shrugs. “Dunno. It’s not like we can just demand they appear to us, you know. But I figured it’s night time and it’s basically Halloween so it’s probably a pretty good time to see or hear something.”

“Okay,” Josty says. “So we should probably…be quiet?”

“Yeah,” Kerf says and then two of them stop talking and everything gets even creepier.

It’s not like there’s no noise at all, their footsteps on the grass are dull thumps, quiet crunches when they pass over dried leaves, and there’s the rustle of their clothes, their quiet breathing. In the distance JT can occasionally hear a car passing by and there’s the rustle of the wind in the trees. Somewhere a dog barks.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary really but…somewhere in the distance JT swears he can hear a low sound, a quiet, weeping moaning and he can’t figure out what could be making that noise.

He’s imagining it, he tells himself, and steps closer to Tyson. He’s freaking out because he could literally be walking over someone’s grave right now and that’s just a creepy thought. There’s no noise in the distance.

“You hear that?” Kerf says quietly.

“It’s just the wind,” Josty says but his voice is low too, barely above a whisper.

The look Kerf throws him is full of disgust and JT really, really wants them both to shut up.

They keep walking and the noise continues. It doesn’t seem like they’re getting closer to it, just a quiet, steady noise in the distance, like someone blowing over a bottle but much lower.

Suddenly Kerf stops and JT almost walks into him.

“Look,” he says and points to the weird steps and column monument in the park. JT doesn’t really want to, but he forces himself to look. It’s hard to tell with the low light but JT almost swears there’s something moving around—

“For fuck’s sake it’s just the shadows playing tricks,” Josty doesn’t bother to keep his voice down this time and Kerf punches him in the arm.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses. “There’s something moving there I swear to god.”

Josty rolls his eyes.

“Hey ghost!” He yells. “You wanna step out somewhere we can see you maybe? My buddy here is really convinced you’re there but I’d like to see you properly.”

The three of them stand still, looking at the monument. JT feels frozen, afraid to even blink as he stares at the steps. Around him he can hear Kerf and Tyson breathing and he swears, he swears that there’s something moving behind the columns, and any moment now it’s going to step out and—

Except it doesn’t. Nothing happens and Josty laughs.

“See?” He says. “Nothing there. Or did you see something Comph?”

JT swallows against the lump in his throat.

“No, uh, nothing,” he says and his voice sounds weak in his own ears. Kerf narrows his eyes at him.

“Alright cool, let’s get home, it’s fucking freezing out here,” Josty says.

It takes them almost thirty minutes to get home and JT has probably never been so glad to slide into his own bed. And if he forgets to turn his bedside table lamp off when he falls asleep, well, he’s had quite a bit to drink. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.

—

They fly out in the afternoon the next day. The morning had mostly been spent packing and gently nursing their hangovers, from which they had fully recovered by the time it was time to board the plane and the rest of the team looked about the same.

No one had brought up the trip to the park and their reason for going yet. It didn't seem quite real now, that they had walked through a dark park in the middle of the night looking for ghosts. By the light of day and with a tiny headache pounding behind his eyes JT is more than convinced that the noise they had all heard was the wind and that the shadows moving in the monument had been just that: shadows.

He decides to forget about it.

Unfortunately, Kerf doesn’t.

Even more unfortunately JT doesn’t figure that out until it’s too late.

It starts innocently. Or well, it starts with Kerf asking—

“So, you guys wanna have dinner at a haunted restaurant?”

“Uh yes,” Josty says instantly. “There are ghosts in Montreal?”

They’re in the middle of their epic four city Canadian Road Trip and they just dropped their last two games. The mood is not good, though everyone is trying to stay optimistic.

“There are ghosts everywhere,” Kerf scoffs. “But this place is like three hundred years old and there’s a lot of stories about it. Flickering lights, cold spots and stuff. Some people have said they see the ghost of a little girl that died in a fire there.”

“Cool,” Josty is too enthusiastic about this. JT punches his arm.

“A girl dying in a fire is not cool,” he hisses.

Josty waves a hand, “well no but she died ages ago. And seeing her ghost would be cool! Kerf hasn’t really done much to convince me of his whole ‘ghosts are real and I’ve talked to them’ thing.”

Kerf crosses his arms. “There were ghosts in that park. It’s not my fault you refuse to believe what’s right in front of you.”

“Some vague whistling sounds from the wind do not mean—”

“Hey guys,” Gabe appears as if the sound of an argument starting has summoned his captainly presence. “What’s up?”

“Kerf found a haunted restaurant for dinner,” Josty tells him brightly and JT has to suppress a groan because that, that absolutely means he’s not getting out of this because—

“Yeah?” Gabe grins. “Is the food supposed to be any good?”

—

Unfortunately the food is very good. JT has a steak with peppercorn sauce and asparagus and fried polenta on his plate and it’s almost good enough to make up for the fact that occasionally the light above their table will flicker. Every time it does Kerf gives Josty a significant look and every time Josty makes a face back at him.

Besides JT Tyson (Barrie) is digging enthusiastically into his mashed potatoes. It’s hard to think about ghosts in an atmosphere like this, his teammates surrounding him and a spacious, nice dining area. Even with the light flickering JT feels the fear in his chest slowly unclench and by the time he’s picking the last bits of asparagus off his plate he’s mostly relaxed enough to look curiously around the restaurant. There are plenty of other guests, mostly adults out for dinner with friends, business partners or partners in general. There’s nothing spooky or out of the ordinary at all. Just people having dinner.

And then JT spots a little girl walking across the dining area. She catches his eye because she seems to be the only child there and there’s something…something off about her. He can’t quite put his finger on it, it’s something in the way she moves around the room, darting quickly and quietly around the tables and the fact that no one seems to be looking at her and that her dress seems kind of old fashioned and—

JT wrenches his eyes away and looks back to his teammates, half hoping they’ve all seen her and half hoping that no one has.

Unfortunately it’s the worst option of all that comes true and it’s Kerf is the only won who appears to have noticed anything and when he catches JT’s eye he looks nothing short of triumphant.

Ghosts aren’t real, JT thinks desperately. That’s just a little girl whose parents took her to dinner.

But when he looks back out between the white tablecloths he can’t find her anymore, no matter how much he looks.

“There’s something weird in the bathrooms here,” Tyson says, dropping back down in his seat beside JT. “Like, it’a super cold but only in front of one urinal?”

Kerf’s smile of triumph grows wider and Gabe laughs.

“What, did you try all the urinals until you found one that had the perfect temperature for you to stand in front of?”

“Fuck you,” Tyson says and then they argue all the way through desert. JT doesn’t taste a single bite of it.

—

They lose to Montreal as well. JT would like to blame ghosts but he thinks that this is probably just to blame on the fact that Carey Price is too fucking good again this season. It certainly wasn’t the rest of the team helping out.

He mostly just wants to go to bed and go to sleep but there’s an insistent knocking on his door and when JT opens it Kerf pushes his way into the room, Josty following behind him,

“He saw her,” Kerf says, pointing at JT. “JT tell Tyson about the girl we saw at the restaurant.”

“Yeah JT,” Josty is smirking at him, full and pretty. “Tell me about the ghost you saw.”

JT looks between them, Kerf with his brow furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest, Josty grinning like this is all a huge joke. He’s tired.

“I didn’t see anything,” he says.

Josty’s grin widens.

“Sorry Kerf,” he says. “Looks like you’re going to have someone else to support your ghost theory.”

Then he pats JT on the arm and makes his way out of the room, calling over his shoulder: “Night boys.”

Kerf is staring at JT, dark eyes wide and unblinking. His face is slack and serious, hunting for something in JT’s features.

“You’re lying,” he says finally. “I saw your face when you saw her.”

JT shrugs and Kerf huffs.

“Fine,” he says. “I will prove it though. To both of you I guess.”

He slams the door behind him and JT collapses face down into his hotel bed. He wants nothing more than to have nothing more to do with this, but it doesn’t seem like Kerf is going to let up on the ghost hunting.

—

“So,” Kerf says. “Off day coming up.”

He has a tone. JT hates that he has a tone and he especially hates that he now knows to associate this tone with Kerf dragging them somewhere haunted.

“Are we going ghost hunting again?” Tyson perks up. Apparently, he knows the tone, too.

“I thought we’d do something a little different this time,” Kerf says and he must catch sight of JT’s face because he continues, “Something fun. Did you know there have been multiple Bigfoot sightings up in Rocky Mountain National Park?”

“Kerf,” JT is going to try to nip this one in the bud, and quickly. “It’s November.”

Kerf shrugs.

“The trails are still open,” he says. “And it’s not that cold, come on. Besides, it’s not very likely that we’ll find something, cryptid sightings are pretty rare.”

‘Cryptid sightings’ Tyson mouths in JT’s direction. He’s grinning, clearly delighted with the situation. He wants to go out up into the mountains and hike around, looking for a giant monster of some sort. JT isn’t exactly sure what Bigfoot is, but he’s pretty sure it’s not something he wants to be near.

Tyson is grinning though. He’s grinning wide and bright, mostly laughing at Kerf but also at the idea of them three out in November, walking through the forest. Possibly the snow.

JT really, really doesn’t want to do that but he is nowhere near strong enough to not do what Tyson wants when he’s grinning like that. He sighs.

“So how did you want to do this?” He asks Kerf.

Kerf frowns at him, possibly confused at how quickly JT caved but he shrugs it off.

“I thought we’d go in the morning,” he says. “Pack some stuff to eat and do one of the hikes. If we take a day we can maybe we can go off trail a bit, see if we can find anything. There isn’t really a method to this, Bigfoot appears when he wants to.”

That seems promising to JT. He doesn’t want to meet Bigfoot but a day out hiking through a national park doesn’t actually sound like the worst way to spend an off-day, especially if it makes Tyson happy.

That’s what he thinks and he keeps thinking that through the disaster of the three of them making sandwiches and then failing to find anything to pack them into. The whole thing is a mess but eventually there’s a packed bag and Kerf is in the driver’s seat. Josty has claimed shotgun and thus has claimed DJ-ing responsibility. This automatically means JT has to suffer through more than one Bieber song and Josty’s off-key warbling.

It’s probably a bad thing that this causes him to feel nothing but fondness.

It’s not that far to the Rocky Mountain National Park, just under a two hour drive but JT has never been and it’s sort of stunning when they finally get there. The mountain vista is impressive and even if the grass is sort of dead and the trees have lost most of their leaves it’s still an imposing landscape. There’s a stillness to it, like everything is holding its breath and for a moment JT feels very small, cradled in the hold of the mountains.

Kerf has a map and the trail all figured out so he takes the lead, Josty and JT following behind. They walk in almost silence for a while, working their way along further into the woods. They see a couple of other people but it’s the middle of November, it’s not like the park is busy. All three of them are wrapped in thick winter coats and hats. Kerf’s has the Avalanche logo on it.

There’s something meditative about just walking. It’s not a particularly strenuous walk, mostly just the three of them shuffling over mounds of dead leaves and the occasional fallen branch. There’s quiet around them, that stillness that comes with being outside in the cold. The air is sharp on JT’s cheeks and his breath comes out in visible puffs. Beside him Tyson’s cheeks are pink and he’s smiling, just a quiet thing, small and personal and his curls are poking out from the edge of his hat. For the first time in a long while something aches in JT’s chest, something that he knows he needs to keep in check, not let it grow too much and so he pulls his gaze away, looks back towards Kerf.

Who is looking at him, eyes dark and thoughtful.

“We should go off trail,” he says abruptly. “Won’t find Bigfoot where all the people are.”

“No,” JT says even though he knows he’s fighting a losing battle. “I don’t think we should. We should stay on the trail, where we won’t get lost. And there aren’t even any people around.”

As if to prove him wrong a family rounds the corner of the trail in the distance. They’re bundled up and chatting idly as they walk towards them, nodding at the three of them as they pass, red cheeked and happy. It’s not like they’re making much noise, but the kids are talking non-stop, a very involved story about a duck or something.

“Bigfoot is definitely not gonna show up if we stay on the trail,” Kerf says once they’ve passed.

“Yeah JT,” Josty says. “Come on, let’s go into the woods.”

JT doesn’t like the sound of that at all. Nothing good has ever started with the words ‘Let’s go into the woods’. He’s overruled though and despite the fact that he could just continue on the trail he also doesn’t think it’s a good idea to just let Kerf and Josty go off on their own.

There’s something much spookier about the woods when they’re off the trailer. Not super spooky or anything, because it’s still only the middle of the afternoon, the sun slowly dipping lower between the evergreens, but the air seems stiller here and there’s no path for the to follow so they have to push branches out of the way and climb over the occasional fallen log. JT tries to make sure they at least walk into one direction so that they’ll be able to find their way back but after a couple of minutes walking there’s already no sign of anyone around.

“So what does Bigfoot do anyway?” Josty asks. “Does he kill people? Eat them?”

Kerf furrows his brow at him. “What’s wrong with you? No Bigfoot doesn’t eat people. He just…I dunno, lives mostly. Hangs out in the forest. Sometimes people run into him.”

“So he doesn’t attack those people?” Josty persists and JT doesn’t know why he's doing this. Why does he want the thing they’re looking for in the first to be a bloodthirsty killer or something, that will rip them limb from limb. JT shivers as he peers out into the trees. It feels like it’s getting colder, and darker. The clouds pulling together in the sky.

“I mean I think some people have claimed he attacked them. Or thrown rocks at them.” Kerf shrugs. “I guess he was protecting his territory or something.”

“From people like us,” JT says. “Who are wandering right into what is possibly his territory. That’s really reassuring, thanks guys.”

“It’s not like anyone has ever died,” Kerf sounds impatient. “You’re not going to see something amazing if you always take the safe path.”

“Yeah JT,” Josty nudges him in the side. “Live a little.”

He smiles up at him and it only makes JT’s heart skip a little.

They stay quiet after that. Don’t want to hurt their chances of seeing the giant, possibly dangerous creature that lives in the mountains. Nooooo, that would be soooo terrible.

When he doesn’t think about the possibility of actually meeting Bigfoot (who is not real, JT reminds himself. Or. Probably not real. It’s not like ghosts, he’s not quite sure of the science.) then the walk is nice. It’s not particularly steep and it feels good to be outside and to be moving, to feel the cold against the exposed of his body but not to actually feel cold. For a while, it doesn’t seem so bad.

Until the sun is getting lower and the first flakes of snow start to fall and they are definitely in the middle of a forest and JT has no idea how long it will take them to get back to their car.

“Uh,” JT says. “Maybe we should…head back?”

Kerf sighs. It’s a very put upon sigh, like JT is being purposefully difficult instead of trying to keep them all from getting lost in the woods and dying in the snow and dooming the Colorado Avalanche to another historically bad season.

“I guess,” he says. “It was a long shot anyway, cryptid sightings are pretty rare. You have better luck with ghosts usually.”

“Oh definitely,” Josty says. “I can tell from all the ghosts we’ve met so far.”

Kerf’s glare is withering. “We’ve met ghosts every time we went out, you’re just too blind to see them.”

“A shadow in the distance is not proof—” Josty starts but JT has heard this argument several times by now.

“I really think we should head back,” he says. The snow is starting to come down now. It’s still pretty light but he really, really doesn’t want to be out here if it turns into a full blown storm or something.

“Fine,” Kerf says and does an about face, heading back in the direction they were coming from. The walk along, Josty humming under his breath now, occasionally tipping his head back to look up into the snow coming down from the sky. It’s cute and JT would probably be distracted by it if he wasn’t worrying about if they're heading into the right direction. He really hopes so but it feels like they’ve been walking forever, much longer than they were walking on the way up and shouldn’t it take less time on the descent.

He doesn’t voice his concerns though he does give an audible sigh of relief when they hit the trail again.

Josty grins at him. “Were you really worried we were gonna get lost in the woods? It’s not even dark yet.”

“No,” JT says.

“I don’t believe you,” Tyson says and suddenly he’s standing very close. “Look into my eyes and tell me you weren’t scared we were all going to get eaten by Bigfoot.”

From this close Tyson’s eyes are very brown, a nice warm shade and his cheeks are very pink and there’s a snowflake in his eyelashes, wet and spiky.

“Uh,” is all JT can get out and then Tyson laughs and shoves him a little with his shoulder, pushing past him and starting off down the trail.

“Huh,” Kerf says and when JT looks at him he looks back with narrowed eyes.

“Come on!” Josty calls out. “Let’s get back, i’m hungry and we haven’t even eaten our sandwiches yet!”

It’s still light out when they make it back to the car, though the parking lot is almost empty. Apparently most people made their way back more quickly than they did.

“Sorry we didn’t meet Bigfoot,” Josty tells Kerf.

“Suck my dick,” Kerf mutters as he loads their bag into the car.

“Your dick’s a cryptid,” Josty says cheerfully and slams the trunk shut.

—

Things go quiet after that, though JT has learned not to trust that by now. He’s determined not to get into whatever the next thing is going to be. This time he’s going to put his foot down and Tyson and Kerf can just go off on their own if they’re so determined to find ghosts and monsters.

Unfortunately, when the next thing happens, it doesn’t really have anything to do with ghosts.

They’re out with the team because it’s the beginning of December and they just beat the Wild. It was a good game, JT didn’t score but he did get point so he’s happy with his beer, sitting at a table chatting with Tyson (the elder). People wander to and from their table, to the bathroom, to other tables and JT remains sitting, making conversation with whoever comes along.

Josty scored. Josty scored so he’s over at the bar with something stronger than beer, getting flirted with, and JT is decidedly not watching that. It’s what Josty does, flirts like breathing with a crooked smile and a tucked in chin, looking up through his lashes. JT knows okay. He doesn’t need to see.

That doesn’t mean he can stop himself from looking though. As much as he tries to pay attention to what people are saying he keeps glancing over at the bar, sees Tyson’s cheek get more and more flushed, his posture looser and looser. Eventually there’s no one at the table except JT and he doesn’t have anyone to distract him from the things he doesn’t want to see.

It doesn’t even look like Tyson is hitting it off with anyone or anything. He just looks happy, leaning on Mikko now and laughing as he takes a swing of his beer. It doesn’t hurt but JT also can’t look away, drinks him in, the curls and the tipped back laugh and—

Kerf slides in across from him. “I know what’s going on.”

His gaze is intense, dark eyes laser focused on JT’s face. He doesn’t have a drink or anything, just leans forward to fixate JT.

“Um—” JT says, because this is super weird. “What?”

“I know you believe,” Kerf doesn’t appear to blinking right now. “You saw the girl in Montreal. You felt it. There was something there. But you won’t admit it because you have a crush on him.”

He jerks his head towards where Tyson is standing at the bar. JT can feel his face heat up but he’s pretty sure he’s already red from drinking, so he just hopes that Kerf doesn’t notice and laughs weakly.

“No, I don’t,” he says. “He’s just right. Ghosts aren’t real.”

At least that’s what JT’s really, really hoping.

“You’re lying,” Kerf says. He still hasn’t blinked. “And I’ll fucking prove it.”

He sits back and finally blinks, gaze firm and determined and not looking fucking deranged any more. He looks over JT’s shoulder and apparently sees something because he slides out of his seat and pats JT on the shoulder, casually grabbing his beer as he starts to walk away.

“Hey!” JT says because that’s too much indignity to deal with. “That’s my drink!”

“Your drink’s a cryptid!” Kerf yells, not looking back.

—

It doesn’t even take two weeks for Kerf to put his next idea into motion and this time he’s pulling out the big guns.

“How do you guys feel about holding a seance?” He asks in the living room, not raising his gaze from his phone.

Bad. JT feels bad about holding a seance. He does not want to do that.

“Go big or go home,” Josty says. “Who are we calling?”

“Well Nationwide Arena is supposed to be really haunted,” Kerf says, casual, like it’s not a fucking weird thing to say. “Which makes sense I guess, that place has a weird fucking energy and it’s not just the qfucking cannon. So I thought we could try our luck when we’re there next week.”

“Why…is it supposed be haunted?” JT asks weakly. It’s not like he can even argue that there’s not a weird vibe in the Columbus Arena.

“Oh, it’s built on the site of an old prison,” Kerf answers, finally looking up from his phone. “A pretty shitty one and then a fire broke out and like three hundred people burned to death. The built the arena right on top of it and now you still hear screams and stuff late at night. Or people have said they smelled burning. Most of the energy seems to be concentrated in the parking garage.”

Josty actually looks kind of impressed. “They really put an arena on top of that? Seems a little…I dunno, disrespectful?”

Kerf shrugs. “It’s in the middle of town, what were they supposed to with the area? Leave it open?”

“Yeah but—” a sports arena just seems so…inappropriate.

“So how do you hold a seance?” Josty asks. “That’s the one with the candles and the chanting in Latin right? Did you learn Latin at Harvard too?”

He’s making fun of Kerf but Kerf moves right past that.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ll figure everything out.”

This is not reassuring at all and JT spends plenty of time worrying about it, up to reading the wikihow article on how to hold a seance. There’s not much there, except telling them to make a protective circle and to be sure to dismiss the spirits before they end the seance. Also not particularly reassuring.

Before they get to the part where they can summon any ghosts they have a game to play and the Blue Jackets are hot enough that they probably shouldn’t get distracted. Especially if the arena is haunted. The ghosts would probably work for the hockey team.

Unless this is the reasons the Jackets can’t make it out of the first round of the playoffs. Maybe that’s what you get when you play in a building built over an old prison. Apparently there are more varied curses around than just the one working on Toronto.

Whatever. JT cannot afford to get distracted by this. They need this win, not as desperately as they’ve needed some wins but they certainly can’t afford to give it away. JT needs to focus. JT needs to be on the ice and with the team and not straining his ears during morning skate to see if he can hear any weird noises coming from the rafters or something.

He doesn’t, for what it’s worth. Hear any weird noises.

Kerf hasn’t mentioned anything about the seance in the lead up to the game, quietly focused on his own play, but JT isn’t stupid enough to assume that means he’s forgotten about it. When Alexander Kerfoot puts his mind to something he will do it. So far this has been the only time JT has been resentful of that particular personality trait.

But whatever cursed entities may or may not live in Nationwide Arena don’t have it out for the Colorado Avalanche (something that will hopefully not change after they summon their undead souls for a chat) and the game goes well. Kerf scores so he’s sweating and grinning in the locker room. He accepts the congratulations with a grin and then still manages to be dressed before JT is, standing near his stall, a bag slung over his shoulder.

The hotel they’re staying in this time is close enough to the rink so guys are taking off on their own, a couple of groups heading out for another beer or to find some food and Josty is taking his sweet time getting ready and eventually they’re the last of their team still in the locker room.

“So where are we holding this seance?” Josty asks. He’s bouncing on his toes, face still a little flushed and wet curls plastered to head. “Here?”

“No,” Kerf’s glare is withering. “Do you guys look into any of this stuff at all or am I the only one doing research? The part of the building where there are most reports of hauntings are the parking garage. I just figured we’d wait for people to mostly clear out.”

“You are definitely the only person doing research here,” JT says. “Considering I don’t even want to do this and don’t know why I’m here.”

“Oh, I know why you’re here,” Kerf mutters under his breath as he starts to lead them through the building, but luckily that’s the only thing he says so JT doesn’t have to…he doesn’t know. Stuff a sock in his mouth to shut him up or something.

The parking garage is a parking garage, which means it’s a creepy and severe place to be when it’s not the middle of the night and you’re not thinking about how three hundred men burned to death right here and you’re apparently going to try to communicate with them.

JT doubts that Kerf has ever spent any significant amount of time in Nationwide Arena parking garage but they trail after him as he purposefully leads them to a corner of the parking garage and then starts pulling things out of his bag and setting them up.

It's all very meticulous. There’s a candle of the floor and he lights it and then lights some sort of herb, waving it around in the air a couple of times before stomping it out. Next he gets a big container of salt and pours a wide circle around the candle.

“Well,” he says, impatiently. “Get in.”

JT looks at Josty, who looks at JT, the shrugs and steps over the salt line and into the circle.

“We need to hold hands,” Kerf instructs and okay JT’s own reading had sort of implied that was bullshit but 1.) he’s not going to admit he did any sort of research on this and 2.) Kerf sound authoritative and is already holding out his own hands. Tyson takes it, then reaches out for JT and really at this point he might as well give up and go along with it.

He takes Tyson’s hand in his left and Kerf takes his right. It’s not— It’s not handholding. They’re standing in the middle of a pretty brightly light parking garage, mostly empty but there are still a few cars around and there’s the gentle hum of something electric. The candle is burning between them, completely unnecessary under the bright electric lights and—

JT is about a million times more aware of Tyson’s hand in his than he is off Kerf’s. Tyson’s hand is a warm, and a little sweaty and he’s sort of squeezing JT’s hand, finger’s brushing against the back. JT doesn’t mean to stare at him but when Kerf clears his throat he finds the has to wrench his gaze back to look at him.

“So,” Kerf says. “I’m gonna start okay?”

They don’t say anything, but Tyson’s hand tightens on JT’s.

“Spirits!” Kerf calls out. “Spirits, are you there?”

He pauses but there’s no response. Tyson giggles a little but Kerf keeps going, undeterred.

“We know many of you died here, spirits,” he says. “It was a violent undeserved death and we can imagine that you’re still angry about it! Many people have claimed to see you and we’d like to talk to you!”

He pauses again and the air around them seems…stiller somehow. The distant humming seems louder and JT notices that he’s holding his breath, letting it out quietly. There’s a weird tension in the air, that no one quiet seems to want to break and in the distances there’s the quiet noise of maybe a door opening and closing and then, a cold swoop of air almost a breeze, which is strange because they are inside—

“Is that—” Tyson starts.

“Shhhh,” Kerf hisses.

They stay quiet, Tyson’s hand tightening on JT’s or maybe JT’s on Tyson’s and it feels like there’s something building in the air, something—

“Uh,” a familiar voice says and the three of them let go of each other and jump apart.

“Why are you standing in a circle in a parking garage holding hands?” Erik asks.

He’s walking towards them, phone held out in front of him and expression somewhere between mystified and delighted.

“None of your business,” Kerf says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“No, no,” Erik says, trying to peer behind them, where the salt and the candle are still standing, “I really think I want to hear this explanation. Please tell me.”

“What are you doing here?” Josty asks and leans forward to look at the screen of the phone EJ still has loosely grasped in his hand. “Is that Pokémon GO? Still?”

Now it’s Josty’s turn to look delighted and even though JT considers what they were doing to probably be the better chirping material EJ hastily stuffs his phone into the pocket of his coat.

“You know what?” He says. “How about we all get back to the hotel?”

“Yeah,” JT says quickly. “Let’s do that.”

“Cool,” Erik nods and for a moment they all stand there looking at each other, no one willing to be the first person who moves, then Kerf turns and hastily grabs the candle, killing the flame and shoving it into his bag.

JT doesn’t look at him and just starts walking towards where he assumes the exit it, determined to pretend like he doesn’t know what any of this about. The other’s follow him and soon enough they’re outside and turn into the direction of their hotel.

“We broke the salt circle,” Kerf mutters when they’re about halfway back, low enough that JT doesn’t know if anyone except him can hear him. “I hope we didn’t let anything out.”

JT closes his eyes, just for a second. The air is cold here in Columbus too, though it doesn’t seem quite so sharp tonight. Beside them an occasional car drives by, low and mechanical. Ghosts aren’t real, he tells himself. There’s nothing that they could have let out, nothing that can hurt them.

—

Regrettably, even if ghosts can’t hurt them, there are plenty of things that can. The first thing that happens in the next practice after they get back from Columbus is that EJ gets hurt. It’s stupid, a stupid mistake in practice, two people not paying attention and then the next thing EJ is hobbling off the ice to get checked out by the trainers.

It’s something with his knee. Four to six game recovery they tell them.

Then they lose their next game. And their next one. And their next one. And they don’t even lose them well, it seems like none of them can score any more, and even when they manage to get a shot off all their pucks are deflecting off the posts or random players that seem to appear just in time. It’s a slog and it makes everybody tired and grumpy.

They’re well on their way to losing their fourth game in a row when Kerf gets hurt. It’s ugly, a hard hit and the boards and then he’s taken away with the trainers and doesn’t come back into the game.

The boys try to rally but there’s nothing there and it’s disheartening to leave the ice with the score 4:1 against them. Almost as disheartening as being told that Kerf has been taken to the hospital “just as a precaution”. That’s never a good sign and everyone leaves the Pepsi Center more than a little depressed.

Turns out they were right to be. Kerf is out for the next two weeks, right up until Christmas and he’s sitting on the couch grimly determined when JT and Josty get back from practice, crutches propped up beside him and his tablet balanced in his lap.

“We did this to ourselves,” he announces.

“Dude,” Josty says, shedding layers as they make their way into the house. “I know this is shitty, but we can get out of it, we just have to fucking score. It sucks that you’re hurt but it’s not—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kerf interrupts, which is rude enough that Josty actually shuts his mouth. “I meant with the seance. We didn’t end it properly and send the spirits off and when Erik surprised us we broke the salt circle. We let something out and now we’re cursed.”

“Oh,” Josty says. “Uh—”

He looks at JT, not the way he usually looks at JT during moments like this, as if they’re both in on a huge joke but kind of desperately. JT gets it, Kerf is injured. You don’t want to be overly critical with a guy who just got injured.

Especially not when his eyebrows are as aggressive as Kerf’s are looking right now.

“Okay?” JT says finally. “Uh. What would we do if we did get cursed?”

“We have to fix it,” Kerf says, impatient. “Obviously. I’m trying to figure out what kind of curse we have here, whether it’s a demon or just an angry spirit and how we can get rid of it. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

“You…do that,” JT says and desperately casts around for a reason to get out of here. “I’m going to go…call my mom. She wanted to know…something.”

And then he leaves the room quickly, a tiny bit glad that at least Kerf’s injury means he can’t easily follow him. Josty, however, can and he’s right behind him as JT dashes into his room.

“Do you think he’s crazy?” Tyson asks as he sits down on JT’s bed, which is not where JT wants him. Or. Well. “The ghost thing is kind of fun but I mean…demons?”

He bounces a little on the mattress, thoughtful.

“I don’t know,” JT says. “He’s probably…just going through it? With the injury and the losing streak and everything. He’ll get better and forget about it?”

This is probably not true since Alexander Kerfoot has yet to forget a single time something had to with ghosts but JT is hopeful. Tyson snorts.

“Sure buddy,” he drawls. “Kerf will absolutely forget about it. But if he doesn’t I guess we gotta look out for him. Make sure he doesn’t reinjure himself trying to hold an exorcism or something.”

“Oh no,” JT does not want to think about it. “We can’t let him do that.”

“Yup,” Tyson pops the p, then jumps up from JT’s bed and takes off through the door. “Guess I’ll try to head him off! Say hi to your mom for me!”

And then, because he doesn’t want to be a liar, JT calls his mom and listens to her talk about her yoga class and his grandmother’s bad back for half an hour.

—

There’s no more curse talk from Kerf the next few days, though he does get a suspicious number of packages delivered. He doesn’t talk about them though, so JT tries to focus on hockey.

That goes well since they win their next game and then Erik is back with the team and it looks like things are starting to get better for them. Practices go well, Kerf is healing well and they have their last long homestead before Christmas to look forward to.

Unfortunately, they lose the first two right off the bat and then Erik gets the flu and Kerf’s recovery stalls and then Mikko gets the flu from Erik and there are still more games to be played and nothing, nothing at all, seems to be going their way.

So it’s not exactly like JT can pretend he’s surprised when he’s sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast and Kerf walks past with backpack slung over one shoulder. He doesn’t have to use the crutches anymore but there is a distance air of forced casualness about him and he jumps almost a foot when JT speaks.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh,” Kerf twists his beanie around in his hands. “To see Erik.”

“Why?” JT asks.

For a long moment Kerf just looks at him, then gives a one shouldered shrug.

“I think he’s the source of all this so I’m going to try to get rid of it,” he says.

JT doesn’t want to be involved in all this. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with potential exoticisms his roommate conducts on his teammate. He doesn’t want to think about ghosts or demons or curses. He just wants to play hockey and for his team not to lose.

“Wait,” he sighs and shoves the final spoon of his cereal into his mouth. “I’ll drive.”

They’re half way to Erik’s place, the heat going full blast and the radio a low, quiet background noise, before JT can bring himself to ask.

“So what’s the plan?”

Kerf shrugs a little. He’s got the backpack in his lap, sort of cradling it protectively and fiddling with the zippers. It doesn’t look like it’s that full, which hopefully means that the curse breaking will not be limited in both time and space. He absolutely cannot let Kerf tie Erik to a bed and start chanting. That would be very bad for team cohesion.

“I have some holy water,” Kerf says. “I figured I’d get him with that, maybe add some salt and there’s a little incantation to banish it. Nothing too complicated, shouldn’t take five minutes.”

“Uh,” JT does not know how to feel about this. “Any idea what you’ll tell Erik once you’ve gone through with this?”

Kerf shrugs again. “…prank?”

JT wishes he had slept just a little longer this morning or that Josty had been the one in the kitchen to catch Kerf sneaking out. Anything for this situation to be out of his hands.

“You know you should just ask Tyson out,” Kerf says suddenly, out of nowhere. “I bet he’d go for it.”

“We’re not talking about this,” JT grips the steering wheel tighter. “We’re talking about your plan to break a curse you’ve convinced yourself is on our team.”

When he glances over at him Kerf’s look is pitying.

“I just think you’d be better off if you stopped lying to yourself,” he says. “About Tyson and the curse. You know the curse is real and I’m fixing it.”

“Oh look we’re here,” JT announces and parks the car at the end of Erik’s driveway. Kerf hops out of his car, already halfway to the door when JT catches up to him, despite his injury.

Kerf doesn’t ring the doorbell right away, instead moving the welcome mat and digging through his backpack until he comes out with a piece of chalk. He kneels on the ground and carefully starts drawing one of those five pointed stars JT sort of associates with Satanists onto the ground. A pentagram.

“Uh—” JT starts

“It’s to trap him.” Alex says and then nothing as he painstakingly makes sure every line straight and of equal thickness. JT watches, hands shoved into his pockets, breath coming out of his mouth in little damp puffs. He glances around to make sure none of Erik’s neighbors are around to catch them acting like complete fucking weirdos. Hopefully the prank explanation would work on them too.

Finally Kerf is satisfied with his work and stands up. He grabs the backpack again, now pulling out a packet of salt and super soaker.

“What the fuck dude,” JT says.

“It’s the holy water,” Kerf has the super soaker tucked under one arm as he pours himself a handful of salt, eyebrows furrowed in determination.

“So that plan is that Erik will come out here, you’ll shoot him with that, throw the salt at him and chant something?” JT asks.

Kerf nods.

“I’ll wait in the car,” JT decides. “To drive us away quickly when Erik gets pissed. Don’t re-injure yourself.”

Kerf waits until he’s actually in the car before ringing the doorbell, which means that JT gets to watch him. Erik comes out after a few minutes, dressed and not looking particularly ill, so at least there’s that. Kerf immediately sprays him down with whatever is in the super soaker, the hurls the salt. JT is too far away to hear anything but he can see Erik’s expression go from confused to pissed off and then Kerf is turning around and striding back to the car, yanking open the door and flinging himself into his seat. JT catches the sound of Erik yelling before the door is slammed shut.

“Let’s go,” Kerf says, breathless.

“He seemed mad,” JT says as he pulls away.

“Whatever,” Kerf doesn’t seem too bothered. ‘Worth it if it breaks the curse.”

They win their game that night and two days later both Erik and Kerf are cleared for practice. The happiness Erik feels about that means that he actually talks to Kerf again.

“Told you I’d fix it,” Kerf mutters as they make their way onto the ice. “You’re welcome.”

—

It’s a week after Christmas when Kerf wanders into the living room as Tyson and JT are playing Fortnite. They’re losing, so it doesn’t take long before Tyson tosses the controller onto the coffee table and turns to where Kerf is just…standing there. Half in the shadows. Watching them.

“What?” Tyson asks and Kerf shrugs and walks into the room properly, flopping down on the other couch.

“I was just thinking about bye week,” he says. “And I saw that it lines up with Mardi Gars this year, so I was thinking we could go to New Orleans.”

Tyson hms and JT shrugs. He’s never been to New Orleans but he’d kinda prefer to spend his bye week on the beach, getting a horrible sunburn.

“It’ll be great,” Kerf says. “Huge celebration and stuff. We can definitely get drunk, and it’s warm. Plus, it’s something a little different than just going to the beach. You can do that every year and, like, in the summer.”

There’s something explicitly casual about Kerf’s pitch, so much that it seems like this is really, really what he wants to do. For some reason, Kerf wants to go to New Orleans and JT suspects that it has something to do with the ghost shit but he doesn’t really have a solid argument against New Orleans. It’s not like he has his set on a beach location already.

Tyson wrinkles his nose a little, which is cute, and then he shrugs. “Sure dude, I don’t really care that much. We can go to New Orleans.”

“Great!” Kerf doesn’t exactly jump up from the couch but there’s a tension in him as he sits through their next round of Fortnite and then gets up and strolls out of the room.

“He’s planning something,” JT says, miserable.

“I know,” Tyson says, grinning. “It’s gonna be great.”

—

When they land in New Orleans, it’s warm and damp. JT has his jacket slung over his arm because there’s no way he’s putting it on if he doesn’t have to. They make their way through the crowds, colorful and excited at the airport already.

Since Kerf is the one who planned all this out he’s also the one shepherding them to their destination. They grab a cab, JT and Josty in the back while Kerf makes conversation with the driver at the front. Outside the window there are palm trees and the sunlight seems both stronger and softer than it does at home, warm on his skin.

The hotel Kerf takes them to is big and old and very beautiful. It’s fancy and white and there’s plush carpets and people are relatively well dressed. JT feels underdressed as he stands in the lobby wearing track pants, hands shoved into his pockets as Kerf talks to the receptionist. There’s a chandelier above them and nook with fancy white sofas. They kind of look like they would stain instantly if anyone actually sat down, which is probably why no one is doing it, instead awkwardly milling around the lobby.

“So I have a single and you two are in a double next door,” Kerf says handing them their keys as he comes over from the reception. “Let’s dump our stuff and check out the pool on the roof.”

Their rooms are a couple of floors up, right next to each other. Kerf takes the first door and JT follows behind Josty into the second. It's a nice room, a small hallway that the bathroom goes off from, plushy carpets, a flat screen TV and enormous windows. There’s also only one bed.

The two of them stand in front of it, considering.

“Well,” Josty says and JT turns around and stroms out, banging on Kerf’s door.

“What?” Kerf says. His shirt is half unbuttoned.

“That’s not a double,” JT says. “Did you mix up the rooms?”

“Oh no,” Kerf says, blandly. “There’s only one bed? Guess I made a mistake in the booking somehow.”

“Uh, yeah dude,” Josty has appeared next to JT.

“Well I’m sure there’s no way they can switch it,” Kerf says. “Not with it being Mardi Gras and everything. Guess you’ll have to share. You don’t mind, right JT?”

He maintains unblinking eye contact as he shuts the door in their face without waiting for an answer.

JT wants to kill him. Josty shrugs.

“Whatever,” he says. “It’s a big bed, we’ll be fine. Come on, I wanna get to the pool.”

JT will absolutely not be fine. They’re here for four days, which means three nights spend in close proximity to Tyson, a notorious drunk cuddler. This is about to be the least relaxing vacation JT has ever been on.

First though, they go float in the pool, which is a novelty for February. There are only a few people up there and so there’s plenty of space to hold each other under water, shoving and yelling, fingers gliding over slippery skin. They drink cocktails by the pool side, looking out over the roofs of the city. The sunlight is glittery and beautiful and in the evening they go out and have beer and gumbo, both of which are delicious.

They don’t go hard that evening, just sauced enough that Josty gets flushed and giggly and JT stops worrying and the night passes without indecent, the bed more than big enough for both of them.

In the morning JT wakes up before Tyson, the room still gray with morning light. He looks at him, face slack with sleep, curls a mess on his forehead. His heart feels impossibly full, tucked into his chest like a warm, pulsing sun. He’s tempted to reach out, brush his fingers through Tyson’s hair, but he knows he can’t. It’s not allowed. So he looks, for just a moment longer, feeling too many things and then he rolls out of bed and stumbles his way into the shower.

When he comes out Tyson is awake and sitting up but still looking soft and sleep-rumpled and JT sends a million curses to Kerf in the room next door because how is he supposed to deal with this? At least when they’re at home Tyson keeps the softest looks confined to his room.

“Breakfast?” Tyson asks and yawns hugely, not bothering to cover his mouth because he doesn’t have any manners but at least that’s easier for JT to deal with.

“Go shower,” he says. “I’ll text Kerf.”

Breakfast? He writes.

Already there is what he gets back and when they get down for breakfast Kerf is sitting there, surrounded by empty plates and sipping a second cup of coffee, intently scrolling through his phone.

“Good night?” he asks and JT scowls at him.

“Sure,” Josty says. “Slept like the dead. Bed was pretty comfortable.”

And then he wanders off to get himself food.

“I hate you,” JT tells Kerf. “Why are you doing this?”

“You wouldn’t be in this position if you weren’t a liar,” Kerf says serenely.

JT frowns. “About the fucking ghosts?”

“Well yeah,” Kerf says. “And about—”

He jerks his head towards the buffet where Josty is currently piling a lot of food on his plate with great concentration.

JT scowls.

“I’m not lying about anything,” he says. “You’re just delusional.”

He stalks towards the buffet to fill his own plate. Unfortunately it’s all delicious so he can’t berate Kerf’s hotel choice because of that.

After breakfast they hit town. There are plenty of people around already, mostly tourists in shorts and t-shirts, chains of beads looped around their necks. Plenty of people are drinking already, handing flasks off to each other and laughing.

Their first stop is Bourbon Street because duh. It’s basically midday by now and street is filled with milling tourists, carrying drinks and watch the occasional stranger dance to the music. It’s slightly surreal, the warm, gentle sunlight and the festive atmosphere. It’s a thing of release, of license.

“Well,” Josty says as they get their bearings, “shall we get a drink?”

They do and that sets the tone for the rest of the day. There are a lot more drinks. They wander around, watch a parade, get into conversations with complete strangers. Josty does his very best to get them to dance with him. Somewhere in the middle they get food, followed by more drinks and as it gets later and it gets darker they are well on their way to super fucking wasted.

So wasted that JT isn’t thinking about the sleeping situation any more until they're back at the hotel, giggling and leaning on each other as they try to get the door open. Kerf stumbles into his room and then JT gets the other door open and they fall into their room. Tyson has been leaning on him for a while, an arm wrapped around him, giggly and soft. JT dumps him on the bed and he laughs as he goes down.

JT manages to strip down to a shirt and boxers and somehow Tyson manages the same without getting up from his position on the bed, only wiggling around to get under the covers. JT follows suit and as soon as he’s settled down on his back an arm sneaks its way around his middle and Tyson’s head settles itself onto his chest.

“Uh,” Tyson’s curls are just brushing JT’s face, “Tys, what the fuck?”

“Quiet,” Tyson mumbles against his pec. “Sleeping now.”

JT tries poking Tyson but he just holds on tighter and eventually seems to just fall asleep, going slack and heavy on top of JT, so JT resigns himself to it and decides to try and go to sleep himself, wrapping his own arm around Tyson to get more comfortable.

Except he can’t. He can feel Tyson pressed up against his side, the warm, heavy weight of him. His breathing is deep and slow, clutching at JT in his sleep. It’s comfortable and warm, usually perfect for falling asleep but JT is hyper aware of the way they are touching, the full press of Tyson’s body, the way he, himself, is holding him. He wants to pet him, bury his fingers in his curls and eventually he gives in, digging his fingers into the soft hair and scratching gently. Tyson makes a soft noise in his sleep and burrows closer.

It makes JT’s chest ache. He has this under control, normally. He can handle it in normal circumstances, when Kerf’s scheming isn’t literally dumping Tyson in his bed. It’s just when he has this, a heavy, warm head on his chest and arm tight around his waist, that his chest aches with things he wants and doesn’t have and it almost, almost feels like it might be worth saying something if there’s a chance he could get to have this all the time.

There’s a noise from the other room, Kerf’s room. It's a dull thud, like something feel over. JT frowns, listening and just when he decides it’s probably nothing he can hear footsteps and then…talking maybe? Something that sounds like laughter, high and cold even though it’s muffled through the wall.

What the fuck is Kerf doing?

JT keeps listening and it goes on for a while, intermittently. It sounds like there’s somewhere over there, muffled voices and the occasional dull thump and more than once the high pitched laughed. Eventually it stops, or JT falls asleep, Tyson still draped across him.

The next morning JT is woken up by Tyson’s soft, pained groans and then rolling off him and towards the bathroom. JT takes stock of himself, his pounding head and foul-tasting mouth. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to hurl, probably, but he does wish the light would go away.

Eventually Tyson comes out of the bathroom and falls back into the bed, this time on his own side of the bed. JT tries not to feel disappointed at that, especially when Tyson blinks owlishly up at him.

“Morning,” he says. “I think…food maybe?”

JT takes stock. Breakfast would probably help, he decides.

“Sure,” he nods. “Gimme a minute and then we can go.”

They’re well into their breakfast plates when Kerf joins them. He looks a little destroyed, dark circles under his eyes and hair not as styled as usual, and he doesn’t bother saying good morning until he’s sitting at the table with his own plate piled high with fruit and eggs and toast.

Something occurs to JT.

“What the fuck were you doing in your room last night?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Kerf says. “I fell asleep and slept the sleep of the very drunk.”

Suddenly he looks a little cagey. “Why did you hear something?”

“Uh, yeah,” JT says. “Like, people laughing and some weird thumping noise and…”

He trails off as Kerf’s expression changes to triumphant.

“You fucking heard it! You heard the ghost!” He turns towards Josty. “There, you heard him! All sorts of noises coming from my room and I swear to god I fell asleep right away when we got back. How do you explain that?”

“I don’t know,” Josty is chewing his omelet, pauses and swallows. “We were pretty drunk, who knows what JT heard. Maybe he imagined it or it was…I dunno, another room or something. Or you started sleepwalking.”

“I have never sleepwalked in my life,” Kerf hisses. He is far too angry for someone who looks so wrecked and he turns his furious glare on JT. “Do you think you imagined it?”

“Uh…” No JT doesn’t. He was pretty fucking awake and aware of which wall was the wall one they shared with Kerf but he also really, really doesn’t want it to be something. Not when he remembers what the laughter sounded like, high and cold. “I don’t know, maybe?”

Josty smirks and then gets up in search of another cup of coffee, leaving JT sitting alone at the table with Kerf, who looks pretty fucking pissed off. There’s a muscle twitching in his jaw and he leans forward, fixating JT with his gaze.

“I want you to know,” he says, low and intimidating, “that you are pushing me to my fucking limits here.”

Then he sits back and wipes the anger off his face, turning his attention to the toast in front of him and when Josty gets back with coffee they decide to go back to the pool for now.

JT has never been more frightened in his life.

The rest of their vacation passes similarly, with the three of them alternating between chilling at the pool, sampling the local foods (most of it delicious) and getting drunk at various parades and bars. JT makes sure to fall asleep quickly, though he can’t actually stop Tyson from snuggling him.

Kerf does makes them go on a ghost tour but compared to what JT’s experienced so far it’s almost boring, just a dude explaining the history of the city and trying to make it as scary as possible. Not a single ghost actually shows up.

Not that ghosts are real. Please.

—

There’s hockey to be played when they get back from their vacation. Considering Kerf’s general attitude about the ghost hunting JT would be worried that he’s going to start something again but fortunately they enter a stretch of games that are both important for them to win as they push for the playoffs and incredibly draining. They’re all very, very tired and though JT keeps an eye out for any further stealth ghost hunting he doesn’t spot any.

Josty brings it up when they’re flying into Arizona. JT really wishes he wouldn’t.

“So what’s there to see in Arizona?” Josty leans over the seat to bother Kerf. He’s technically sitting beside JT, though right now he’s kneeling on his seat to better get Kerf’s attention. “Any ghost towns we need to see?”

They have an afternoon game against the Yotes today and they’re not flying out until tomorrow. JT braces himself for the worst.

“Probably,” Kerf says. “But like, the thing they’re most famous for is aliens.”

“Oh my god,” Beside JT Josty basically starts vibrating. “Are you for real? You took us to hunt for Bigfoot but we haven’t tried to find aliens yet?”

Kerf sighs. JT can’t see him but he can imagine exactly the expression he’s making.

“There’s nothing to look for,” he says. “It’s mostly, like, lights in the sky above the desert.”

“But,” Josty says. “Aliens.”

“Yeah, Kerf,” Tyson says. “Aliens.”

There’s a laugh around the plane as it becomes clear that all of their teammates were listening in on their conversation. Josty pouts as he slides back down into his seat.

—

They beat Arizona, which thank god.

Afterwards Kerf and Tyson come to collect JT.

“Come on,” Tyson says, grin spread over his whole face. “We’re gonna drive out into the desert, look at the stars and see if we can see some alien lights.”

JT looks at Kerf, who shrugs a little. Apparently he’s not the only one who’s unable to deny Tyson what he wants, though he doesn’t think it’s the same reason for Kerf as it is for him.

Still, compared to the other things he’s been forced to experience driving out into the desert to look for weird lights doesn’t sound like the worst experience he’s ever had.

“Hang on, I’ll grab a jacket,” he sighs.

The drive is longer than expected but they’re only at the end of February, meaning it still gets dark early enough. They manage to find somewhere to park the car and then stumble out away from the road and the few lights there, using the lights from their phone to pick their way through the rocks and cacti.

When they stop they’re still more than close enough to the car that JT isn’t worried about finding their way back and the three of them gingerly lower themselves onto the ground, sitting down and looking up into at the sky.

“Wow,” Tyson breathes.

He’s not wrong. Above them the sky is a dark, velvety blanket dotted with more stars than JT has ever noticed before in his life. It makes JT feel very small and unimportant but not in a depressing way. More like the universe is so vast and full of possibility that he’s only a very, very small part of it. He leans back on his hands and tips his head back, staring at the sky.

None of them say anything as they look up. It’s quiet, only the occasional car passing over the street behind them and their soft breathing. It’s not cold, exactly but there's an occasional breeze, cool and making him shiver.

JT isn’t looking anywhere except up, so it startles him when he feels something press up against his shoulder. When he turns Tyson is there beside him, looking at him with a smile.

“I’m cold,” he huffs and pushes himself closer until they’re touching all along their sides, a line of warmth at his side. It’s nice, the gentle way JT can feel Tyson breathing against him and they both tip their head back and stare into the sky.

It’s not the type of situation to talk, so they stay quiet. There’s only the stars and them, Kerf with his arms wrapped around his knees, looking up. He gives JT an ironic look when he glances over, eyes flicking to where Tyson is burrowed into his side. JT makes a face at him but for the first time he thinks: maybe.

Eventually they get cold and pick themselves up off the ground, brushing off the dirt and walking back to the car. Tyson keeps bumping into JT’s side, gentle nudges against him.

“That was nice,” Kerf says when they’re back in the car and the spell of the night sky has been removed.

Tyson hums in agreement. “No aliens though.”

“Well,” Kerf says. “How about you plan the next excursion? I’m sure we’ll have better luck then.”

—

Josty tries to take initiative and makes them go demon hunting in Tampa. The less said about that, the better.

—

Then they’re fighting for their spot in the playoffs, in it one day out of it then next and it’s tense, tense, tense and there’s no time for anything except hockey.

It doesn’t come down to the last game, in the end. They’re in it and there are a couple of games still to play, euphoric with it and with their win over St. Louis, a glorious, sweaty triumph and everyone goes out to celebrate because they don’t even have to leave the city for the last leg of their road trip until the day after this one, a lucky coincidence if there ever was one.

They’re more than hungover the next day, the whole team moving slowly, slowly at breakfast and there’s more than a few guys who don’t show up at all. JT is there, figuring coffee and food will help his hangover more than it will hinder it.

“Hey,” Kerf says, sliding into the seat opposite to JT and oh no, it’s the return of The Tone.

“Absolutely not,” JT says. “I feel dead and I hate ghosts.”

“So you admit ghosts are real,” Kerf starts.

“No,” JT says. “I admit nothing. But I won’t go wherever it is you want me to go.”

This time he’s putting his foot down. Kerf scowls at him.

“Come on,” he wheedles. “There’s a really cool haunted house here, with caverns that you can only tour super rarely. Like four people committed suicide there.”

“No,” JT says. “Also that’s a terrible pitch.”

He goes back to eating his breakfast and ignores Kerf’s wheedling until he eventually gives up and then goes back to his room. He’s very proud of himself, all through taking a shower a getting dressed, settling down on his bed with the full intention of watching a couple of episodes of something he can find on TV and not moving for the rest of the day.

There’s a knock on his door. When he opens the door Tyson is standing in front of it, perking up when he sees JT.

“Oh good, you’re ready,” he says. “Kerf sent me to get you, he’s getting the Uber.”

JT opens his mouth to say that he’s not going to wherever it is, but Tyson is grinning at him, all eager and excited and he feels himself cave, almost physically. His will crumples like wet paper. He’s not proud.

“Gimme a minute,” he says and goes to grab his shoes.

He studiously ignores Kerf’s smirk when he shows up with Tyson and climbs into the back of the Uber.

The place is called Lemp Mansion and it’s a beautiful old building that almost every member of the family that originally owned it committed suicide in. They get a tour of the house, which is big and old and the guide is much too eager to point out every single place a ghosts could potentially manifest and then he leads them around the house to the entrance of the caverns underneath the house. Apparently the original owners were brewers and used the cavern to make and store their goods. Now they’re just creepy.

The guide lets them into the caverns. He doesn’t seem too interested in this part of his job, tells them to go poke around and come back when they’re done. That they could hurt themselves (or get…possessed by a ghost or something) doesn’t seem to concern him too much.

The first part of the caverns are alright, relatively brightly lit sand stone arches and path sprawling into different directions. It’s creepy, but in the way cellars are creepy, or mazes and because of the tour JT already knows that the actual suicides happened in the house upstairs and all supposed ghosts haunt that area. This is just the damp air and weird air currents that come with every large cellar or cave, musty and shadowed.

They make their way into the caverns, kind of drifting apart as they poke around corners and peer into shadowed alcoves. Towards the back the caverns become more cave-like, the walls actual stone instead of brick and JT retreats from that quickly. He has no desire to actually get lost in a cave.

“Hey, come over here,” Kerf calls out. The sound echoes weirdly around the cavern, in a way that emphasizes the size of the place and makes it hard to pinpoint where it’s coming from but eventually JT finds Kerf standing at some sort of door.

“Check it out,” he says. “Looks like some kind of old storeroom.”

JT glances at Tyson, who shrugs and wanders into the room. JT follows. It’s not much, a small room with bare walls and a single light installed, barren and depressing but not actually impressive and when JT turns around to tell Kerf that he just catches him shutting the door on them and there’s a sound like lock being slid into place.

JT strides over to the door and pushes down on the handle. The door moves a little, rattling against the lock but it doesn’t open.

“What the fuck Kerf,” JT yells and gives the door a shake. Tyson steps up next to him.

“I told you,” Kerf says through the door. “You’ve been testing my patience. I know you know what the truth is JT!”

“Let us out!” JT yells back, rattling the door again. It still doesn’t give; the lock is sturdy enough for that and JT is hesitant to use more force since he doesn’t actually want to cause any property damage. Yet.

Kerf doesn’t say anything. JT doesn’t know if he’s left to wander around the caverns some more or if he’s listening in or if he’s actually going to keep them shut in here until JT gives into his stupid plan and admits that yeah, maybe he’s kind of sometimes, at some of the locations they’ve visited sort of thought ghosts could potentially be real.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tyson says, frowning at the door and then looking up at JT. His eyelashes look very long and JT…really doesn’t want him to be trapped in some stupid storeroom because Kerf is convinced the truth needs to come out. He can give him this much at least.

“Kerf has gone crazy,” he says, “and locked us in here because he wants me to admit that I kinda think ghosts are real, too. Which I do, I guess, so he can let us out of here now.”

“Oh,” Tyson says. “That’s cool, I guess. I was kinda hoping he was trying to get you to confess your feelings for me though.”

JT stares at him.

“You know, like some kind cliche lock-them-in-together-until-they-work-it-out thing,” he continues. His cheeks are kind of red. He’s not exactly meeting JT’s eye.

“You were hoping for that?” JT asks.

“Well, yeah,” and now Tyson looks at him and it’s all— all bright eyed and determined and sweet. “Duh.”

“Can I kiss you?” JT blurts out.

Tyson looks at him, then grins, wide and brilliant, “Yeah.”

It’s everything JT could have dreamed of, except the part where they’re locked into a room in a haunted cavern by their teammate. But Tyson’s lips are soft and he closes his eyes and whimpers a little and pushes close, and JT gets to tangle his fingers in Tyson’s hair, tugging gently.

“Oh good,” Kerf says and when they pull apart he’s standing there, frowning at them. “Did you tell him about the ghosts, too?”

“Um,” JT swallows. Tyson is standing right next to him, tangling their fingers together. “Yeah.”

Kerf’s expression goes triumphant. Tyson squeezes JT’s fingers.

“I still don’t believe you,” he says. “He’s just as delusional as you are. Just cuter.”

And then he grins in JT’s direction as Kerf’s expression shifts back to outrage and JT sees many more trips to haunted locations coming for him in the next season. He squeezes Tyson’s hand back.

Ghosts aren’t actually that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> The haunted park in Denver is Cheesman Park
> 
> The restaurant in Montreal is [The Auberge Saint Gabriel](http://aubergesaint-gabriel.com/en/)
> 
> The hotel in New Orleans is Le Pavillon
> 
> The haunted house in St. Louis is Lemp Mansion
> 
> Nationwide Arena does in fact have a reputation for being haunted
> 
> There have been many different ghost sightings at Harvard. 
> 
> Anyway, I also have tumblr as littleconnections, come say hi!


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